Court Of The Clockwork Queen
by Archamasse
Summary: Bo's nightmares make her fear for the future; but her case leads her to stories of a far more ancient tragedy.


Please be aware there are elements of shady consent and sexual situations in both this and later chapters.

This will be updated to completion, a little more sporadically than stories I've posted in the past, I just thought it best to get it rolling before the show's finale.

It's also worth noting that the prologue was initially meant for a standalone, if that's how you'd like to read it.

All reviews are appreciated. If you like it please pass it on.

Thank you for reading.

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

She signalled for the next supplicant.

Her attendants scurried away obediently. They came back up the ancient stone steps leading an unfamiliar woman.

One of the flunkies cleared her throat to speak, dipping her head in a little bow with every word.

"She wishes to make Offering" they said, like children proudly presenting something to their mom. _Offering,_ they said, and flicker of excitement ran around her court.

Mobs love a novelty, Bo thought scornfully. But even she'd found herself leaning forward a little, before regaining her composure.

"She understands what that means?" she asked flatly.

"She does."

"And you're satisfied she meets my stipulations?"

"Yes, Majesty."

Bo looked the woman over.

She was a slender, elegant blonde. She showed no trace of fear or hesitation, nor any hint of intimidation from the stiffly disciplined attendants flanking her or the gossiping crowd. Still, it was important to be sure.

"Nobody's forced or coerced you into this?"

"No."

"I need to be certain. You understand you're going to die?"

Bo asked the question bluntly, but she wasn't listening for the answer – she was watching to see how the woman's aura would react.

"Yes. I understand that. I want-"

"I don't need your reasons." Bo said, waving her answer away.

She took a long, thoughtful breath, leaned back in her throne and took another, longer look at her. The woman was very beautiful, and held her head high. She met Bo's inspecting eye with a steely gaze of her own.

"I accept the offering, have her prepared."

Another murmur of hushed half-chatter washed around the hall and quickly faded when Bo's attention came back to them.

When the fuss died down, Bo settled back to preside over the remainder of the day's agenda. She did well to hide her gathering anticipation gracefully, but as soon as she could, she slipped away to her discreet private galleries to watch the preparations.

From here, Bo watched as the woman was guided from one process to the next, the palace followers treating her with a mixture of sombre reverence and envy. She was bathed and groomed and dressed, with fine oils and powders and fabrics. It was a rare occasion, and she was to be afforded the very best of everything for her consecration.

Bo could see a crystal flute in her hand, she must have requested wine at some point. Someone stood by to take it from her whenever necessary, or fetch anything else she might want. She couldn't see her expression from here. She could only wonder about it as she watched the woman brought to lay down for a slow, thorough massage. The attendant spoke softly and handled her body with as much deference as she did skill and attention – it was, after all, to become a sacred object. Bo was pleased to catch a glimpse of her flawless naked form, and she let a low, smouldering thrill gather in earnest. She smiled privately and returned to her chambers to wait.

She didn't know how late it actually was when someone finally knocked on her chamber doors. The only clock in the bedroom, a large and perfectly crafted gold and silver mechanism, was purely ornamental. It didn't even have hands, they would have obscured the fine filigree of the clock face. And anyway, time in the palace was entirely defined by her.

She called for them to let her in. The woman entered, dressed of course in exquisite silks and anointed in subtle perfumes. She strode in confidently and stood patiently as Bo appraised her. She told her she was pleased – she looked almost nonplussed at the verdict, and Bo liked that.

The dress she'd been clothed in had been designed for this occasion alone, and it slipped off her shoulders easily. She wore nothing else, and Bo paused and appreciate the view before proceeding. When she touched her, the woman held her gaze as if challenging her. She smiled knowingly as Bo's hand slid down her stomach and probing fingertips confirmed that she, too, was anticipating what was about to happen. Bo laughed.

There was no need for pleasantries - Bo took her to her bed and enjoyed her. She was receptive, responsive and skilled, and Bo luxuriated in making her come almost as much as she did in her own pleasure.

Bo had her for as long as she wanted; but ultimately they both where it was leading. It was always the object of the evening. They'd been having sex for hours when Bo decided it was time. She steadily, artfully coaxed the woman's body back up to the very edge yet again, but this time, kept her just close, just _almost._ Bo enjoyed the woman's pleas, so very nearly irresistible, satisfied to know she could keep her right there for as long as she wanted, if she only wished to. _Nearly_ irresistible - Bo was _nearly_ tempted to prolong it even longer just for more of this, but her body, her real appetite, demanded satisfaction too, and that was the point.

She kissed her, long and slow, leaned in again and fed.

Oh she was delicious, oh yes. She was a thing to be savoured, rather than devoured. She fed and the woman's body tensed and trembled under her, this sudden burst of unfamiliar stimulation driving her through the fragile threshold. Her body turned to spring steel as she finally climaxed, crying out, her hands seized in her hair.

Bo let her have it for just a moment – it was sublime to witness - and then took a little more as she was still in the throes. She drew from her as if sipping a rare, precious spirit, a luxury, and then stopped again.

The woman fell helplessly back to the bedclothes, panting, exhausted by the toll already.

"Do it," she managed, breathlessly. "I want it. You can have me. Don't you want to keep me?"

There was a spark of defiance in her eyes. But Bo _did_ want to have her, absolutely. And that last, fatal little measure, oh it was the best of anyone, the best of all. It was a delicacy, and she wouldn't resist it.

"Do it, please, I want it!" the woman cried, more desperately. "Take all of me!"

Could she have said anything else at this point though? Probably not. Her fate had been sealed when she presented herself to the court earlier in the day; that was when she'd actually made this choice.

Bo kissed her again, a last kiss, and took the last divine little bit of her. The last thing the woman would have experienced was a singular, fatal bliss, as her body gave her up to her killer without a fight. She died in the most perfect sensation of her life.

Mmmm, yes. Bo let the woman sink back on to the bed, and laid back to ride out her own ecstasy, to simply enjoy her heightened, roaring senses as they gradually levelled off.

Yes, she'd been a special one, she'd liked her very much. It was good, very good. She was already sorry it was over – she didn't know when she might have the next one, or if the next one, he or she, would be as wonderful.

She caught her breath and sighed. All her body wanted her to do was bask in satisfaction, but she preferred to move to one of her other bedrooms during the afterglow phase. It gave some of her people an opportunity to come clean up, and to spirit away the corpse.

She sighed again, reluctantly sat up to move, and cried out in shock. The dead woman next to her, she _knew_ her.

Of course she knew her. It was Lauren. Of course she was Lauren. Lying dead with a grotesque idiot grin in Bo's bed, it was Lauren. With all the life pulled out of her, with her eyes wide and skin already starting to grey.

Holy shit. How could she not have recognised her earlier? How could Lauren even be here, now? She hadn't seen Lauren since the Dal, last… night? Could it have been last night? What had she done?

She started in shock as the gold and silver clock chimed.

She recoiled away and out of the bed, pulling bedclothes with her.

The clock chimed.

She screamed for Kenzi, but she didn't know if she'd come. Where was she? Where was anybody?

The clock chimed again.

Lauren's body was lying in front of her.

She was dead, and the clock chimed again.

She had been the one to kill her. The clock chimed again, and again.

Her mind reeled, she pulled sheets around herself, stumbling away. The clock chimed again and again.

All at once, the room seemed completely unfamiliar, and she realised abruptly she couldn't remember anything at all of how she'd come to this place.

The clock chimed again and again and again.

She couldn't think straight with the noise of that fucking clock, which was supposed to be stopped anyway.

It chimed again and again and she staggered to it, meaning to pull the fucking hands off, her eyes never leaving the beautiful dead woman in her bed. It chimed again and again and again. Lauren was dead. Lauren was dead and cold, and her eyes started blindly back up her, and it chimed again and again and again and again. It chimed endlessly, it chimed again and again and again.

 **And again and again and again and -**

* * *

Bo woke up with a wild shriek

The first thing she saw was a familiar water stains on her bedroom ceiling. No palace, no gold, no deafening clock. She looked around and swore with relief. She was back in her own room, in her own house – her _real_ room. Her heart pounded, her panicky breathing the loudest noise in the room.

She looked around for Lauren, but Lauren wasn't there. Of course she wasn't – she was far away, safe. Safe from Bo and Bo's bad dreams.

And since she wasn't there to be woken up, Bo wouldn't have to explain what had disturbed her so much. Small mercies.

Bo sat in the bed with her head in her hands for a few minutes, waiting for the panic to subside. Her heart raced and her skin sweat cold. It wouldn't be easy to get back to sleep again this morning.

She'd had the dream on and off for weeks. Sometimes only bits and pieces of it, sometimes in different wrapping, but basically the same thing. And always that noise - the hard, deep bell of the clock.

As an expression of her personal fears, it wasn't exactly subtle, and she'd had plenty of dreams to the same effect about people she knew over the years. But this was different. It felt different, and by now she knew better than to dismiss gut feelings. It was vivid, and detailed, and it freaked her out more than she cared to admit to herself.

In an ideal world, she'd be able to avoid Lauren until she could get her shit together. But Bo had never been to any such place, and she was going to need to see her sooner rather than later.

She gave up trying to sleep and got up.

She had a distracted breakfast, tucked away her misgivings, and was already late by the time she left.


End file.
